////////////// 🚨TW: mentions of SH and suiside 🚨 /////////////

She's gone

I lay in my room all the time, Waiting for her to come back.

But she won't.

And I know it, Somewhere deep inside

I only leave my room to eat. I sob in bed, hugging her finger-knitted blankie.

Her little butterfly garden dies without care. I hate that I let her down again.

Then again, what care do I have to give? All of it belonged to her

She’ll never lay in my arms again Never laugh at my jokes My sweet daughter Ripped away as fast as she came

I’ll never wipe those tears away Never get her ice cream on a hot summers day

It’s not fair.

Why would the most kind, Caring, Sweet little girl in the world Deserve this?

She was 9.

Vines grow on the house. Some break through the windows.

The ground is now green, Mushrooms, And flowers.

I punched a hole in the wall. I punched myself.

Sunlight leaks through The broken roof.

My broken down cottage The only place that knows she existed

Soon I’ll be gone too

And once the knives edge hits my neck

Who cares that I am?

🩵

Alone, in a small greenhouse, lived a goblin. Not just an ordinary goblin, a ground-goblin. Do you wish for me to elaborate?

Ground-goblins are goblins who have origins in plant-life, originally being a small shrub themself. This particular ground-goblin decided to spend his life looking after the green that could one day become his brother.

Not just an ordinary greenhouse, either.

The walls were gently strummed with rich foliage, whittling down to the ground, where plenty of vegetation glittered the floor. Flora blocked the entry and exit- so most of the time, this goblin had to crawl out of the window to get out. The windows were bulging with the sun, and rays of light snuck through to help the plants grow.

This goblin was called Pax. This is where our story starts.

One day, after watering his plants, Pax decided to go for a walk. So he snuck out the window and landed with a bang on the shrubs. Now, goblins don't speak English like you and me, so I will have to transalate it. "Sorry, plant dudes," he whispered.

On his walk, he found a lone cactus sitting atop a mount. "Lonely little fella," Pax sighed, and then decided to take the cactus back home. "OUCH!" he yelled out, whilst he was trying to pick it up. He must have to find a better way to take it home.

Then he desired to ... _borrow _a cherry-picker from the neighbours. "Oi, you, come back!" Gary screamed, furious.

Gary was gaining on him! "Quick!" Pax sweated, clearly nervous. Once he had reached the cactus, he gently scooped him up and perched him upon the shoulder of the machine. "Come on!" They changed directions, nearly making it back home, but stopped. For.... all of his shrubs were gone! They had all turned into goblins!

"For we must look after this cactus, my sons," Pax said, "As one day, they will walk and talk like us."

And, years and years later, the cactus never grew into a goblin. Why? Nobody knows. But perhaps it was because he was the joy of the goblins, and they all enjoyed looking after him instead of fighting, like most goblins do. Maybe it was because he wasn't really a plant, and he was a fake. But, whatever you think, the goblins all lived in harmony, looking after plants, Thanks for reading.

The story centers on the people living in the house. Where are you situated? The plants are overgrown and require pruning. It’s hard to see things clearly upon entering this room. What is the function of this room? Is this the living room? Residents of this house, where are you? How did things become so unkempt? Take the time to trim and maintain, as if you continue to neglect things, it makes me wonder where you are. I’m sure you have a love for plants, but now they are attracting weeds, insects, and possibly ants.

From the outside, the house seems to have a curved shape reminiscent of a pill, but as I peer in from the interior, my feelings are uncertain. This leads me to think about the state of the house and its inhabitants. I'm not sure where you are and how long you plan to leave the house as it is before coming back.

It's hard to tell if anyone lives here, but it looks like the entrance has a foyer with windows that let sunlight in, along with some thriving plants. Unfortunately, these plants have been neglected and have grown out of control, blocking the entrance and potentially making it seem like nobody is home. To improve the look of the house, it's suggested that the plants be pruned, watered, and trimmed so that the entrance is clear once more.

Confusion may arise about how to enter and exit the room due to the residents of the house and the room's intended use, particularly with the presence of these plants. It seems like it's time to start tending to things as if returning from a long vacation. If you don't return home soon, the entrance hall will become overgrown. People entering may have trouble finding their way due to the lack of curb appeal in the flowers you have planted in your home.

She’s gone I lay in my room all the time, Waiting for her to come back.

But she won’t. And I know it, Somewhere deep inside

I only leave my room to eat. I sob in bed, hugging her finger-knitted blankie.

Her little butterfly garden dies without care. I hate that I let her down again.

Then again, what care do I have to give? All of it belonged to her

Its not fair. Why would the most kind, Caring, Sweet little girl in the world Deserve this?

She was 9.

Vines grow on the house. Some break through the windows.

The ground is now green, Mushrooms, And flowers.

I punched a hole in the wall. I punched myself.

Sunlight leaks through The broken roof.

I think a tree fell on it last year.

I walked into her room for the first time In years.

No No No No.

I felt her presence in the room. I could hear her laughter in the walls.

But she wasn’t there And never would be.

But I’m still holding on.

——— Sorry I haven’t written in a while, I needed to deal with my life 😓🥲 💛✨✨ Love Y’all! ✨✨💛

“What are you doing here?” a shrill voice comes from behind me. I've been too busy taking in this… this place, I didn't even think about the fact that a person might live here. The plants that sprouted everywhere and the walls that are made out of live trees, sucked me into this child-like fantasy. I would dream of places like this when I was little. It was comfortably warm and a bit humid, but I love it. It smells sweet and earthy. But back to the story… I spin around and face the voice I see a lady with black hair tied up into a bun, with grey streaks decorating her hair. A tan hat was placed atop her and I noticed her sharp green eyes. “I... I was just leaving, ma'am” I say and turn around to leave. “No, you are not!” she said in her shrill voice. But wait, where did the doors go? They were just right there. I was walking through the woods, going for a hike. I usually like solitude. It's so peacful. You can actually think clearly when you're alone. But, I was was hiking when I saw this place. And when in because of my curiosity. I guess I never listened to “curiosity killed the cat” “Come here!” suddenly, vines and tree roots surround me and drag me to this lady. ”Who are you?” I ask. Her eyes just gleam and she gives me a sickly sweet smile, to my frustration. Her head ticked like a cat with an itchy ear. Little did I know, I would never leave.

Any feedback is welcome. Thank you

My earliest memory is arriving. I was a poor five year old girl, starving, and sick. I had walked for miles looking for shelter. Rain drenched me. Tears streamed down my face. I remember giving up, accepting that that might me my last day. I layed down in a muddy meadow, my hand reached for my Mother’s necklace.

Closing my hand around it I whispered. “I’m sorry I failed Mum.” I took a shaky breath, and closed my eyes. The feeling was almost welcoming. A dark void filled with nothing but quiet peace.

---

“Oh poor child.” I said sadly. I brushed the little girls brown hair. “You were taken too soon.” I picked up the drenched girl in my arms, and carried her to my cottage. I closed the green door quietly.

My snow white cat jumped onto my work table and meowed at me. “There’s no time Cotton.” I said as I layed the girl on my small couch. “Cone on Cotton we have no time to lose.” Cotton meowed in agreement.

I rushed around my cottage grabbing several plants. Mashing them in a bowl I sprinkled in one last ingredient. Closing my eyes I said a small prayer. “Oh please Mother Nature, let me heal this poor soul.”

With a deep breath I poured the mixture into the girls mouth. Her long brown hair turned green, and her eyes went from blue to the deepest green of the forest.

---

I woke up with a big cough. I looked around, I was inside a small cottage, it was filled to the brim with plants. A strand of hair fell into my face. I stared at it in shock. My hair was green!

“I’m so glad it worked!” A voice said from near me. I turned towards the voice and saw a middle aged woman. She had beautifull black hair and green eyes.

“Who are you?” I asked. “You can call me Ren.” The woman said. “Who are you?” “My name is Fern.” “Well Fern your safe here, feel free to stay with me as long as you like.”

---

(9 years later)

“Ren I’m heading out!” I shouted at the door. “Do me a favor and take Cotton out with you!” Ren replied. “K.” I picked up the fluffy cat and raced out the door. Once I got to town I entered the small book store.

“Welcome in little lady.” A man said from behind a counter. “I’m looking for a specific book, do you have it?” I asked. “Let me guess, you’re looking for this.” The man held up a book with a worn cover. “That’s it!”

A crooked smile spread across the mans face showing the gaps in between his teeth. “Come with me.” He said. Cotton followed behind me as I followed the man.

He opened a door.

“Here, child,” Mother Nature cups her hands and catches the rain, pouring what puddles in her palms over a pot of seeds. They suddenly burst, stretching up and blossoming into several colors. “May you bloom,” she coos, her fingertips brush the plant.

She moves onto the next. And the next. The next and the next. She buzzes around, planting, growing, budding, watering and feeding each plant. Vegetables, flowers, vines, trees, bushes, weeds and shrubs— they reach up towards her with a smile.

Strong and healthy, she watches them flourish around her in patterns of luscious green, bright yellow, velvety red, starry blue, rainbow violet and heartwarming pink.

Golden sunlight filters in through the hollowed stump she lives in. Butterflies flit to and fro, bees come and help, blue birds land on silent wings, worms dance in the dirt, leaves giggle at the tickling of the wind. Mother Nature smiles at her beautiful works.

“Now,” she says, her hands extend outward “Let there be a massive tornado.”

Trigger warning- Blood and gore. If you are sensitive to these topics, please do not read. ~

“Nova!” I scream, rushing after the troublesome black cat who had run away with my dinner, yet another time.

Stumbling over roots and rocks, it takes me a while before I get to her favorite hiding space. The flower room.

The flower room is a room filled full of what its name suggests, flowers. Bunches of dark red and pink roses line the walls. Lillies bloom on the mahogany wood floor. Hibiscus flowers cover the ceiling. The fragrant smell of sweet vanilla, honey, and cloves fill the air. It’s Nova’s favorite place to be in because the fragrance masks the smell of the food she steals, and the clumps of tall plants sprouting up from the floor covers her body when she crouches down.

I suddenly slow down to a stop, realizing that she got out of my sight. I turn around the plant filled room, and sigh in exasperation.

“I wonder where Nova is?” I purposefully say loudly, hiding a smile when I see a long, raven-colored tail waving in the air next to a patch of daises.

I slowly walk over to where she is, and then grab her.

“Got you!” I yell, giggling at her chubby cheeks filled with lettuce and carrots.

I take her out of the room, taking care not to crush any of the flowers, and lead her back into the main room. I take a seat on a chair engraved with small markings of poppies and orchids, softly petting her silky fur.

“Do you ever wonder what’s out there?” I ask her, looking into her calming yellow-green eyes.

She seems to shake her head in a yes gesture and settles down more comfortably into my lap, claws digging into my pants and vegetables in her mouth.

I trace the outlines of the flowers on the chair and memories come flooding back.

“Mommy.” I said, my younger self’s long brown hair spills over my shoulders. Heading towards the kitchen, I stop in front of a woman cutting slices of tomatoes. The woman turns around and looks down at me. I gaze up into my mom’s kind face and swampy green eyes, so similar to mine that I could’ve been a carbon copy of her.

“What’s outside of this house?” I asked her in a curious voice.

“Well, there’s more flowers, and more trees, and more plants…” She replied vaguely, patting my head.

“But what else is out there?” I asked, not intending to give up until she gave me a straight answer.

“Just more of what you see in here.” She said, finally looking me straight in the eyes.

“But Mom-“ She cutted me off with a pat on my head.

“You don’t need to worry about it.” She said, thrn turned back around to finish her task.

Up until this day, I still don’t know what there was to worry about. I always assumed my mother would tell me when I was older, but she died when I was fourteen years old from a disease. Now I’m sixteen and there hasn’t been one day that’s passed by when I don’t miss her terribly. Sometimes when the pain in my heart gets too much for me to bear, I pretend I’m cuddling up next to her for bedtime like I was a child, when in reality I’m lying on the cold wooden floor, all alone.

I suddenly hear a sharp ‘meow!’ of pain and quickly snap out of the trance I was in.

“Oh my gosh, Nova did I hurt you!” I ask the annoyed cat in a rush. She climbs out of my lap and lies down on the magnolia covered couch. I smile at her nervously, but she lets out a sniff and looks away haughtily.

“Ha ha, you’re like an angry queen.” I say as I walk towards the kitchen. If it was even to be considered a kitchen. There’s one small cupboard which stores the grains and dough, and a fridge that holds all the vegetables, fruit, milk, and eggs.

Grabbing an apron from a hanging rack and tying it around my waist, I get to work making blueberry muffins. I have the biggest sweet tooth imaginable, and ever since I learned to bake I’d been making sweets ever single day. Wether it be chocolate chip cookies or lemon tarts, there’s always something to satisy my craving in the fridge.

As I finish pouring the batter into a bowl and put it in the oven, I look outside of the kitchen window and sigh.

Though I love where I live, I can’t help but wonder what more there is to see. But I knew that was impossible, as a magical charm had been cast on my house centuries ago, which prevented the inhabitants of it of ever leaving.

Just then, a painful ‘meow’ sounds in the living room like a plea for help, snapping me out of the trance I was in. I run as fast as my legs allow, the muffins lie forgotten in the oven.

“Nova!” I yell, cupping my hands over my mouth.

“Nova…Nova, please come out!” I scream as loud as I can. When I hear no ‘meow’ or soft scratching in return, I begin to lose hope.

Searching around the room, I check every couch and table, desperate to find something.

“No, she’s not there…” I mutter to myself out of instinct when I look under a hibiscus covered chair.

“Or there…” I say again, distraught. I turn around in a circle, looking out for anything suspicious.

A mound of black and red in the corner of the room, partly hidden behind a chair, catches my eye.

“That’s weird…” I say. It wasn’t there before I left to go to the kitchen. I decide it’s probably some clothes I left on the floor, but decide to go check anyways.

Walking over to the corner, I still check around the room making sure to keep an eye out. As I near it, the mound becomes a mass, and is more clear than from a distance. I suddenly halt as I go around the chair.

What I find is not clothes, but the mutilated body of Nova. Dark red covers her body, encasing her into a shell of blood. Her skin is torn up like a crumpled piece of paper. I gasp and cover my hands over my mouth as I see what I think used to be her leg, but now has jagged pieces of white bone sticking out of the severed skin. I can’t stand it for a moment longer, and throw up into the pristine white carpet of lillies.

Shaking, I try to get back up to my feet but can feel no blood in my legs. I fall after every attempt and stay lying on the floor, gasping for air.

“Well, well, well, there’s another one.” I hear a deep, scratchy voice call out. I try to turn my head, but immediately get stopped by the cool feeling of a sharp metal edge pressed against my neck.

“Wh-who, who ar-are you?” I hate how my voice shakes, but I am so terrified that I can’t stop the tremble that comes out.

“Turn around, sweetie.” They say. I can imagine the amused look on their face from my afraid voice.

The cool feeling is removed from my neck, and hesitantly I look backwards.

And scream in absolute terror.

Dawn breaks but Marigold can’t will herself to get out of her cushion of ferns. How long has it been since she’s last felt the grass in her toes, or talked to another creature. Two weeks? Three? She wouldn’t be surprised if she exited just to realize that an eternity has passed while she indulged in pity.

The place has already began showing signs of being unkept. Plants once thriving now wild and spread, crowding the small cabin, engulfing the place with a sweet and tangy scent. Yes, Marigold might be a nymph, but she prefers keeping the untamed plants on the outside. She’s beginning to appear a hermit!

She trims the plants, dusts the place, and is left with one conclusion; Marigold, hates plants. They have never done anything to her personally, though she is bitter that pollen makes her sneeze uncontrollably. What she hates is what they represent. A time where she lived with her fellow nymphs and sisters, being one with nature in a way no one can ever understand. Spending the days nude and cloaked in vines under the sun, breathing in an air so sweet only a fool would turn away. But Marigold did just that.

She fell for a boy. An elven boy, with ears pointed to perfection and hair as bright as gold. If nymphs were thought as beautiful, he could only be described as the lover from the ballads.

And her admiration didn’t go unnoticed. He swooned her, making every word that came from his plump mouth rush heat up her cheeks. He kissed her, and loved her in a way she thought nobody ever could. And when the time came, she left her family. Not that they wanted much to do with her after her love declaration anyways. She ran with him, and he whispered sweet words of the life he had planned. A life of adventure and mischief and wonder.

But it was all a dirty lie from the mouth of a trickster. She should have know, Marigold now realizes. They may be beautiful, and perfect in a way that ethereal beings melt in their touch, but they are tricksters. Beings who enjoy breaking hearts as much as they love clawing them. And Marigold was just another short infatuation for the elven boy.

Now the consequences of following her heart has left her here. In the outskirts of the forests, where only humans, pixies, and outcasts live. Away from everything and everyone she’s ever know, in a small house that she despises, and a heart aching.

So Marigold makes herself a promise. This would be the last time the elven boy ever took someones heart, before she would take his. Nymphs may be docile creatures, but she no longer knows what she is, for nature will never bring her the same comfort it once did.

Swaying green velvet dress just kissing the floor with every step she took her hips moving sideways like a magnetic force was drawing each one in with perfect timing to the rhythm of her heart beat. She was a fairy type, a fairy godmother in fact And an illusionist in fiction.

I met her one summer night after I had waited for hours for my mum to come home. Back before the days of mobile phones and we didn’t always have a landline which was the case at this time and even if we did we both know my mother wasn’t responsible enough to call. Finally 8:30 hit and a car pulls into the driveway and two doors slam,I can hear jolly conversation like friends stumbling in after a good night at the pub which is exactly what had happened. I didn’t mind now that I knew my mum was home and she brought a captivating person with her,I was happy to sit up half the night with them listening to them rehash their memories from the past. I don’t remember going to bed that night but the next day she took me for a walk and told me she would trust me with her life,no one had ever said that to me before and at 14 I couldn’t help but be drawn in.

So when I see this picture I know she would live here being the fairy that she is. My fairy godmother in fact, And a great deal of love and trust in truth. Leah